


The Same Water

by FreshlyJuicedBeetles



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26006977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshlyJuicedBeetles/pseuds/FreshlyJuicedBeetles
Summary: Commodore Norrington washes up on the shore and you must find out why.Notes: I intentionally kept the main character ambiguous (but female) so readers can fill themselves in!Warnings: Mentions of trauma, drowning, and racism.
Relationships: norrington x reader
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

I didn’t expect my weekend to start with a man washing up on the shore.

My best friend Jericka and I were sitting on Stewart beach enjoying the relative peace of the environment, aside from the tourists and screaming seagulls. We grew up together and considered each other as sisters. We stood up for each other as kids. We could have moved away after graduation, but our mutual love of the water kept us here. Jericka loved to surf, and I inherited my father’s old deck boat that I spent time maintaining, upgrading, and restoring. Where else but Galveston were you only a short walk to a beach?

I had been half-watching something ebb and flow towards the shore for several moments, more interested in the story of Jericka’s terrible date when I realized it was a person.

“Oh shit!” I exclaimed, jumping out of my beach chair. “Lifeguard!” I yelled, waving my arms wildly as I raced to the body.

Whoever it was, washed up on the shore just as I got to the edge of the water. I dropped to my knees and checked for signs of life.

“He’s alive,” I said as Jericka made it to my side. “Chest sounds clear, faint but steady pulse and heartbeat.”

“What on earth…” She said, looking at the person.

The man was dressed in a unique naval uniform that looked brand new. He was ghastly pale, as though he had never seen the sunlight. There were the remains of a bloody wound tearing through his clothes. I checked the wound and found nothing but a healed scar.

“Do you think he’s a cosplayer or something?” I asked.

“The sea must have spat him back up,” Jericka said.

“What do you mean?”

“My nana always told me stories about pirates who got involved with our culture. Told me stories about the East India Trading Company and how it trafficked our people. ‘The sea has her secrets,’ she would always tell me.”

The man began to breathe quicker, nearly hyperventilating before he opened his eyes. They focused on us, confusion clouding them.

“Where am I?” He rasped.

“Galveston,” I answered.

The word held no meaning to the man.

“Texas?” Jericka added.

He weakly shook his head before falling unconscious once more.

“We’ve got to get him to the hospital,” I said as lifeguards and paramedics arrived.

They carefully maneuvered him on a stretcher as an ambulance pulled up on the sand.

“I’m the one that found him,” I said to one of the medics.

“Ma’am, you prolly need to come with us then, in case you need to answer some questions,” I nodded and hopped in the back of the ambulance before the strange man.

“I’ll call you!” I said to Jericka before the doors closed.

At the hospital, I was allocated to the waiting room. I spent that time Googling everything I could about the East India Trading Company and pirates. I believed in the supernatural, but I wasn’t quite ready to think that some guy from the 17 whatevers had washed up in Galveston, Texas, even if his costume was a dead ringer for the actual ones.

Sometime later, a friendly-looking doctor came looking for me. “Hello, I’m Dr. Greg Stambaugh, but please call me Dr. Greg. I’m head of the emergency department. Are you the one who found our John Doe?”

I nodded, “Yes, that’s me.”

“He’s currently stable. We could find no signs of _physical_ trauma. You said he just washed up on the shore?”

“Yeah, maybe he was on a boat somewhere?”

Dr. Greg shrugged, “It’s likely. We’re going to keep him for a few days just for observation while the police investigate and to get some fluids in him. This man has seemingly been through something traumatic. I expect him to be unconscious until tomorrow at the earliest, while his mind and body sort it all out. You’re welcome to visit him in the morning.”

I nodded, I wanted to crack this mystery.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest Readers: If you are in Galveston or the coast of Louisiana, please make sure you are safe! Please, no one worry about me, I’m in Oklahoma, safe from Hurricane Laura. I know a lot about Galveston because I visit regularly, and it’s where my grandma was born and raised, and grandpa was stationed in the Coast Guard. A lot of my family history took place on the island!

The next morning, Jericka and I visited the man. We sat mostly in silence. I barely registered the bustle of the hospital and the beeping of the machines he was connected to. I was still buzzing from yesterday. I was still in a bit of shock about what had happened and was trying to process it. He was on an IV drip of saline, a nasal cannula, and a heart monitor.

“Good morning, ladies!” Dr. Greg said, cheerfully, a chart in his hand. “So, I ran his blood sample, and it yielded interesting results. This man has no titers for anything we currently vaccinate for, but he has antibodies for smallpox. Thus, I can assume he was never vaccinated but survived smallpox.”

Jericka whispered in my ear, eagerly, “I’m telling you! He was a part of that mess my nana told me about! I bet he was the Admiral! What’s the more likely scenario here?”

“I dunno. Maybe he’s Amish or something,” I shrugged. I turned back to Dr. Greg, “What do you think it means?”

“Logically, I would say his parents didn’t believe in the efficacy of vaccinations.” He answered.

“Or they weren’t invented yet,” Jericka muttered.

The man started coughing. Dr. Greg rushed to his side.

“It’s okay, sir, we’re taking care of you. You’re at the University of Texas Medical Branch. My name is Dr. Greg. We’ve got you on supplemental oxygen and IV fluids.” He said in a calm voice as he checked the man’s vitals manually, even though the machines were monitoring him. “Can you tell us your name?” He asked.

“Norrington…James.” The man answered, and I was able to register an English accent. He opened his eyes, still confused.

“Good, do you know what day it is, James?”

“May…1729.”

The doctor chuckled, “No, not quite. Do you know who the president is?”

Norrington had slipped back into unconsciousness. Dr. Greg continued to check over him before saying, “He’s getting stronger. I expect him to be in and out today, but tomorrow is a new day.”

After Dr. Greg left, I scrambled to my phone.

“Google his name! Google! Google it!” Jericka ranted.

“I am, I am!” I said, typing the name.

I hit pay dirt. He had a Wikipedia article and dozens of other sources. “James Norrington was an officer of the British Royal Navy and the East India Trading Company. Bewigged and resplendent in his uniforms, Norrington owed his allegiance to King George II. Norrington took pride in his service to others before himself, showing a strong dedication to the law, until the occasions of pursuing the right course that demanded acts of piracy.” I read it aloud.

I continued scrolling with Jericka watching. I skimmed the article. It talked about his early life in London, the notable battles and commendations he earned. I scrolled back up to the biographical information bar. I had purposely ignored looking at the painting of Admiral James Norrington because I wasn’t ready to confirm if the man in the hospital bed was him or not until now.

I stood up and held my phone up to his face against the painting on the article. Jericka’s eyes widened, and my heart raced.

“It’s him,” I said.

“Am I in the colonies?” He asked, not opening his eyes. I must have jumped a foot back, not expecting him to reawaken so soon.

“Yeah, well, sort of,” I answered.

“The colonies declared independence in 1776. There are fifty more called the United States of America. It’s currently the year 2020.” Jericka explained.

“Do you understand what’s going on?” I asked gently.

“Indeed,” He answered and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes.

“You’ve must have seen some things if you’re taking this news so calmly,” Jericka said.

Norrington remained quiet, the far-off look of stoic contemplation on his face. Jericka and I gave him his space to sort it all out but stayed close to keep him company. Dr. Greg returned a little before lunch to check on him and was happy to see him awake. He pulled us aside into the hallway after a quick examination of Norrington’s reflexes and cognition.

“I am releasing him into your care tomorrow. If desired, of course. We’ll continue an investigation, maybe he’ll turn out to be a missing John Doe, but since no foul play is suspected, it’s not likely to go anywhere. Here’s some information about services that can help him.”

I took the information, “I’ll take him. I have an extra room.” I didn’t even look at them. I wasn’t about to let him get lost in the system and fall through the cracks. This was something extraordinary. I couldn’t bear for him to be treated like a freak show.

When the nurse came in with lunch, Jericka and I excused ourselves to the cafeteria.

“We’ve got to get him some clothes. He can’t run around in that hospital gown, and his uniform is at the police station being tested for fibers and whatnot.” I said, toying with an empty bottle of water.

“Dang. How do we dress a high-class guy from the 1700s?” Jericka asked, eating a bag of chips. “Whose closet do we raid? Our dad’s or our grandpa’s?”

“I dunno, but the Coast Guard Station over on Fort Point Road is looking pretty good. Think they’ll let us use their uniforms?” I joked.

“I’d think he’d miss the brocade and feathers,” Jericka said, popping a chip into her mouth.

I sighed, “Well, I’m heading over to Houston, maybe I can find something. Can you sit with him?”

“Yeah, of course.”

As I drove over the causeway that connected the Island of Galveston to the mainland, I thought about how I would explain things to Admiral Norrington. How would I explain a car? Electricity? I barely knew how such things worked. Maybe I needed to get him a book.

I had to guestimate his sizes; I didn’t want to embarrass him by outright asking him. I could tell he was very reserved, even for someone from his time. I went for conservative styles and patterns, quality, and modesty. Even men back then tended to cover up. I had to balance the Texas heat against it. I made sure to have a fair amount of navy blue, gold, and white.

I found several outfits that I knew he’d look good in and hoped he found comfortable. He was a very handsome man with aquiline features, short chestnut hair, and beautiful eyes. I suppose the powdered wig he wore in his portrait did not make it.

After procuring his clothes and other sundries, I zipped over to Barnes and Noble for a history book. I settled on a hefty book by the Smithsonian that spanned the dawn of humanity up until the present day; well, 2015.

On the way back over the causeway, I had to wonder about what I would do with him come Monday when I went to work. Would he be okay on his own? Should I take the day off? I didn’t want to smother him or disrespect his abilities. Maybe it was a good thing he was a high-ranking military man, they were logical, right? He would probably be okay.

I found Jericka in the hallway upon arriving back at the hospital, “Has he said anything?”

She shrugged, “Not really. He’s still processing everything. They’re taking him off all those machines and IV right now.”

After the nurses left, Jericka and I entered his room. He was looking at his hand where the IV was.

“Hello, Admiral. We never got a chance to introduce ourselves.” I introduced myself and Jericka. “Tomorrow, you’ll come home with me if that’s alright with you.”

He nodded, “I suppose that is for the best, but don’t call me Admiral. James will suffice.”

Jericka and I were surprised that he didn’t want to be addressed by his title. I decided not to question it. “I got you some clothes and this,” I said, pulling out the book and handed it to him. He looked at it with interest and immediately started flipping pages. “It’s the history of the world. Of course, you can ask either of us anything.”

Jericka nodded earnestly.

“I appreciate your charity,” Norrington replied. “I endeavor not to be a burden.”

“No, no, no! Never think that.” I said.

“Yeah, you’re stuck with us.” Jericka teased.

Jericka and I vowed that nothing would happen to this man.

James was released the following evening. He was dressed in the new clothes I bought for him. He looked perfect in them and didn’t seem to mind them. I must have done well!

As we were walking out of the hospital, there was crowding at the door. It was a going home celebration. James and I smushed ourselves against the wall, waiting for the ado to die down, and we could leave.

A patient was wheeled in from the opposite corridor. We watched as a nurse wheeled him to the edge of the entryway. On new titanium legs, this man stood and walked out with his family. He was in the Navy; I could tell by the signs his family and care team were holding.

I could tell this experience moved James, he wanted to say something to the young soldier but thought better of it.

I purposely kept the car ride as underwhelming as possible. I turned the radio off and kept the A/C blowing gently. He seemed to be taking it all in stride, learning from my actions.

James mostly watched the water as we drove the short drive home, occasionally interested in the wide range of vehicles on the road; cars, trucks, vans, golf carts, motorcycles, and four-seater bikes.

“I see that the seagulls and pelicans are just as intrusive as always.” He commented, watching a horde of seabirds steal tourists’ food.

I giggled, enjoying the familiarity. We had something in common, and it was a link to his past.

Home was a raised bungalow on a heavily tree-lined street.

James looked at the stilts it rested on, “For flooding?” He asked.

“Exactly. Galveston has had several bad hurricanes hit, but the house has weathered them all. It’s up high enough that you can go around back and see a bit of the Gulf.”

I showed James to the guest room and how a modern home worked. After dinner, I gave him his space. Around midnight, I heard a door sensor chime. I found James sitting on the balcony, watching the ocean ebb and flow. I sat down across from him.

“How are you doing?”

“It’s overwhelming.” He answered, “I have so much to learn, new vocabulary, all the major events. I cannot fathom how much progress I have missed, but the ocean is the same, and I take comfort in that.”

“Well, if you’d like, we can get out on the water tomorrow. I’ll show you around the island.”

“You know how to sail?”

I laughed, “No, my boat has an engine, but I assure you that the art of sailing by wind has not been lost yet.”

For the first time, I saw a genuine smile on his face, “I’d like that.”

_I_ endeavored to make him smile that cute boyish smile as much as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

James and I got up early the next morning to head down to the marina. The sky was a dazzling pink only an island could produce.

“Here she is, _Seaclusion!_ Don’t make fun of me. My dad named it.” James got a chuckle out of the other punny names of the neighboring boats.

We climbed aboard, and James inspected the vessel, fascinated by hundreds of years of progress.

“Here,” I said, tossing James a life vest and securing my own.

“What is this?”

“It’s a life jacket. It’ll help you stay afloat if you fall overboard.”

“Ingenious!” James said in awe as he put his on.

“Oh, and these,” I said, digging around in a compartment by the wheel. I pulled out a pair of old aviators and sunscreen. “To protect your eyes and your skin. Though you’re probably already riddled with skin cancer from living in the Caribbean unprotected for years. Keep an eye on that freckle behind your ear.”

James touched the freckle self-consciously.

“You know how to swim, don’t you?”

James rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Of course I do.” He put on the aviators and dang, he looked good. I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of interrogation with him. He had an intimidating air about him that he could turn on and off.

The engine roared to life, and the beginning cords of ‘The Real Thing’ by George Strait played on the speakers. James looked overboard to the motor and rudder underwater.

“I’m sure you have better sea legs than I do, but you might want to take a seat,” I said, gesturing the rows of seats on the front deck.

“Hold on!” I said and came up to speed, pulling out of the marina. James was pushed back in his seat by the motion, not expecting a boat to go that fast. I wanted to show him what ships were like nowadays. Even over the rushing wind, I could hear him laughing with glee.

We sailed to the other side of the island with dolphins in our wake. How lucky was I that I lived somewhere where dolphins were so accessible!

I turned down the speakers, “This is Pier 21. Our cruise ships dock here, and on the other side are the shrimp boats that supply these restaurants first.” Large pelicans lazed around the docks and boats, hoping for some fish scrap from the sailors. James wasn’t paying attention; he was gazing at the _Elissa_ like a starved man in an oasis.

“What is this glorious creation?” James stood as we idled.

I smiled, “That’s the _Elissa_. A little after your time, but I’m sure you can sail her just as good as anyone else on this island.”

The Elissa was a tall ship from 1877. After many different roles in life all across the globe, she was moored in Galveston.

“Is she still functional?”

“Oh yeah, she goes on one big sail to Europe once a year. She’s mostly a teaching vessel now. And next to that is a yacht. Some restauranteur owns it and has a staff to keep it ready around the clock even though I’ve seen him use it like five times.”

“Is it common for laypeople to own such vessels?” He asked, finally pulling his eyes from the _Elissa._

“Here on the island, yeah, pretty much everyone has a boat. They’re still quite common on the mainland, depending on how close you are to water. I’d say a boat is definitely attainable to the upper-middle class.”

“You mentioned a ‘cruise ship’?”

“Yeah, they’re huge ships that can hold thousands of people who sail for vacation. See that huge thing over there?”

“Is that a ship?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yep, let’s get closer.”

We were dwarfed by the cruise liner. James looked up in disbelief as we buoyed in its shadow. “Galveston is a port city for cruise liners, bananas, farm equipment…Oh, and you need to see this,” I said as we turned and sped into the open water.

“I think you’ll like this,” I said as we pulled up next to the wreckage of a rusted and splintered ship.

“I am perplexed, yes,” James answered.

“This is the _Selma,_ and it’s totally made out of concrete, or mortar, I guess is similar.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Yep.

“Surely, she never saw the open ocean.”

“It did actually. Until it was damaged, and it was far too costly to repair due to war, and it was scuttled.”

James looked to the horizon, “Why are those ships not in the harbor?” Container ships always loomed in the distance of Galveston Island.

“Again, costs too much but also because the channel isn’t deep enough.”

“Are pirates a concern?”

“I’ve never seen a pirate in my life. I guess pirates were your version of terrorists,” I said.

James thought, then nodded, seemingly decided the word was correct.

“Unfortunately, we still have a problem with terrorism, plus pirates as you would know them. Instead of big ships, they run around on jet skis or dhows today. They’re mostly a problem in the Indian Ocean and around that area.”

“So, they’ve been cornered…”

“What? Down boy! You want to go pirate hunting? Well, unfortunately, pirates are actually looked upon favorably as of recently.”

James looked at me like I’ve grown two heads, “Especially here. I guess people like the freedom of just going wherever you want to and forget that they were actually terrorists. Not that piracy is now legal or anything.”

“And what are those machines in the distance?”

“Oil rigs. They dig oil from the earth, and we use it to power just about everything. Crews live on them for weeks at a time. Usually, there are less parked here, but the price of oil has dropped, so companies don’t need as many.”

Container ships _and_ offline oil rigs loom in the distance of Galveston Island. It’s almost like the giant guardians that protect us.

“Do you want to try?” I asked, gesturing to the wheel.

He looked hesitant at first but quickly accepted. “The wheel is the same as it ever was, this is the accelerator, how fast you want to go, the kill switch if something goes awry…” I explained. James and I then switched places, but I stood behind him in case something happened. I could tell he was uncomfortable with the proximity to another person and a woman, but when we got up to speed, he looked like a bird who could finally fly again. I almost didn’t have it in my heart to ask him to surrender the wheel.

When we got home, there was a package at my doorstep. My heart started to thrum when I saw it was from the police department. I hurriedly tore it open when we got inside. The contents of the box smelled like mildew, salt, and brine. It was James’ uniform. I pushed it to him as I read the letter that was on top of it. It was a standard form letter saying they were closing the case due to insufficient evidence that there was nothing out of the ordinary about the uniform.

James held the uniform in his hand. “Do you have a fireplace?” He asked.

“Why?” I asked.

“It makes me ill.” He replied.

“You don’t want it?”

“It’s a mark of failure, both personal and professional. I would think it best if it was gone.”

“I have a fire pit.”

“Splendid.”

Later that night, Jericka came over, and we started the fire. James unceremoniously dropped the heap of clothes in the fire and sat down with us around it. Jericka and I drank while James abstained.

“To new beginnings,” I said, raising my bottle of Ziegenbock. James nodded, watching the fabric burn.

“You know, there are probably costumers and historians who would have dove in there for that uniform,” Jericka said.

“So…what happened? Before you died?” I asked.

James was silent for a moment, composing his thoughts. “I can pinpoint the exact day when everything changed. An idiot pirate sailed into my port. To attempt to capture him, my men and I sailed through a hurricane. Only a handful survived, and I resigned in shame. I essentially became a pirate myself for the time, drunk, and destitute. Then, I meant Davy Jones.” James leaned forward, the fire casting shadows on his face, almost making his sharp features look hawk-like.

“You can’t be serious,” I said.

“I am. He is something of a grim reaper of the seas. I was stabbed by one of his crewmen. That’s all I remember.”

“You sailed into a hurricane?” Jericka asked, “And you made it all the way to Admiral?”

James scowled. “I had no choice.”

“But what’s so wrong about the uniform, or being called Admiral?”

“I didn’t earn it, nor was it through the Royal Navy. I worked for the East India Trading Company, who were no better than pirates themselves when I was an admiral. I took the post out of necessity, greed, and selfishness. I was only serving myself, not the Crown, not the people. I was no better than a pirate as well. I much rather be called commodore if you have to address me by title.”

Jericka gave a low whistle, “Then I’m sure you heard of Galveston before.” She took a drink from her bottle.

“Was it a pirate’s den?”

“Oh yeah, Jean Lafitte owned the place.”

“Lafitte? I have heard of him. I always seemed to run into a sun-drenched lunatic named Jack Sparrow.”

“He sounds like quite the character.”

“He was. If Lafitte settled here, I must be in Campeche.”

I snapped my fingers. “I never thought of that! That’s like Galveston history 101!” I said to Jericka.

“Well, I know where I’m at, so that brings some more comfort,” James said.

“Okay, Commodore,” Jericka said, “Tell us about yourself.”

James looked like we just asked him to explain nuclear physics.

“Pets? Did you have any pets?” I asked.

“Well, I had a horse named Scout back in the Caribbean. I think she tried to kill me once.” James said casually. “And there were coconut crabs all over the fort I was stationed at. They stole everything.”

“A horse? Tried to kill you? And crabs stole your stuff?” Jericka asked skeptically.

“No one believed me! Even then!” James said adamantly and gestured wildly as he told the story, “I swear this horse was calculating, and she _hated_ me. How would a horse know to stop right below a hanging lantern so my tricorn would catch fire?”

“Maybe you should have been paying better attention…” I said gently.

James started to speak, but thought better, “Fair enough.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Jericka said excitedly, “We need to take him to Pieces of Ship! Down on Mechanic street!”

“Excuse me?” James asked, not believing his ears.

I laughed, “It’s a shop that sells parts from ships; maps, flags, wheels, bells, you name it.”

“No, Mrs. Norrington, huh?” Jericka teased as James stoked the fire. She winked at me.

“Close, but it wasn’t meant to be,” James said, looking down for a moment.

“Yeah, everything I’ve read about you never mentions anyone,” I said. I was noticing I was relieved when I found out James never married. However, by his wording and the tone of his voice, there was someone he wanted. Jealousy tingled at my nerves.

“I appreciate time for forgetting such a blunder.” He gave a small, defeated smile.

“Sweetheart,” I said, “I think you need to see a therapist.”

We burst out laughing.

By the end of the night, we were laughing incessantly. I felt like we became friends with James at that point.


	4. Chapter 4

I found out a lot about James over the next few days. He was early to rise, just before dawn. He was a fiend for PopTarts and lemon tea. He was a voracious reader, going between his world history book and my copies of Sherlock Holmes.

I fell hard for his few broad smiles and even fewer hearty, full laughs. He was never one for laziness and kept himself busy. At the time, he was studying modern ships, especially safety improvements like watertight bulkheads. I also saw him reviewing the accident reports of the _Titanic_ and _Costa Concordia._

James had certain tells that he was not from this time. I could even tell by his posture and movements that he was not from this era. His stance was always stiff and straight like nothing could bend him, his hands usually behind his back. He maintained constant eye contact and rarely wavered first. His shoes were always shined, and nary a button was ever out of place. I loved that little sarcastic smile and nod he would give when he found something foolish.

A few nights after the bonfire, I found James on the balcony again, and I sat down next to him.

“I did the math,” He announced, “I am 320 years old.”

“And you don’t look a day over 35,” I teased.

He gave a small smile, “I never had a choice in my life. It was all decided for me, even before I was born. Now that I think about it, it wasn’t even chosen for _me_. Just whichever soul was born to my father. It could have been anyone, really. I had to follow in my father’s footsteps. I didn’t realize how I molded myself to fit the person I believed he wanted me to be. I needed to become an Admiral like I needed air. Perhaps I thought he would finally accept me. I made grave mistakes in my life, and by the time I finally made Admiral, I knew I didn’t earn it. I wasn’t a Crown subject, but rather a diminutive, little twerp named Cutler Beckett, who never had a hard day in his life. It wasn’t the same.”

“You have a second chance.”

“Indeed. I intend not to waste it.”

“Jericka says those who love the ocean will be taken care of by it,” I said.

James wore a pondering smile, “The ocean was my home for many years.”

“Would you still be in the Navy without your father?”

James thought for a moment, “I’m not sure.” He answered. “I know that I would still be a sailor.”

“Did something happen with your father?” I asked. My cheeks burned. I quickly realized how intrusive that could be. “If it’s too personal, you don’t have to answer.”

James sighed. “I wasn’t raised. I was built. He was Admiral in the Royal Navy and would bring me along on deployments when he could. He was training me to be his replacement. I saw many things a developing child should never see. The sea may be all those wonderful things, but she is also dangerous and volatile. I watched as hurricanes decimated villages and what death at sea does to a human body. When I was small, I fell overboard. I was rescued by a pirate. He all but disowned me afterward. He only acknowledged me when it was necessary. When he did, he pushed me harder than ever.”

‘Like a baby bird touched by humans.’ I thought.

My head spun. A father whose child nearly drown was upset at the child for being rescued by a pirate? Wouldn’t a father be grateful? Relieved? Even people were crazy then. “Can I be blunt, James?”

He nodded.

“That’s shit parenting. Your father was an asshole. You didn’t deserve that. That’s abuse.”

The word seemed to click with James like he never realized the term applied to him.

“But he never hit me.” James countered, shaking his head, not wanting the word to be true.

“There’s many different kinds of abuse. Mental, emotional…If it’s one thing that’s different from your time, it’s that we recognize people just…suck, even your own family. A lot of people nowadays make their own families out of their friends.”

“A family of friends,” James echoed. He was silent for a moment, composing his thoughts, “I wanted to thank you for everything you and Miss Watson have done for me. I truly appreciate it.”

Ah, another sign of his past, staying formal with Jericka’s name.

I took his hand and gave it a squeeze, “I think it’s time someone looked after you.” I knew the touch was a little brazen for someone like him, but it was worth the risk.

He held my hand for a moment before giving me a small smile and returning to bed.

Over the next few days, life settled into a pleasant routine. At five a.m., James would rise naturally and start a kettle of tea. He would drink his tea on the balcony or while watching the morning news. It fascinated him that he could learn what was happening on the other side of the planet in real-time.

I would get up around seven and start my day. While I was at work, James took up several hobbies. He continued to read to the point he exhausted the books in my home. Afterward, I set him up on an eReader. He couldn’t believe that millions of full books were instantly available to him. He took to model shipbuilding and started writing his memoir, something just for himself.

Jericka was still as present as ever, but James and I grew closer and closer. We would spend hours on the balcony watching the water and the wafting palm trees discussing books and our days.

“So, you just finished _Frankenstein_. What did you think?”

“I found the nature vs. nurture debate quite compelling. I would like to research it further.” He answered.

“How is the model going?” I would ask other nights.

“It’s progressing steadily. I cannot get the center mast to affix properly.” He said with a hint of annoyance, “I may stroll down to the shops tomorrow and find a better adhesive.”

One night James surprised me, “How does one,” James paused, considering his words, “begin a relationship? A romantic one, in these times?”

I was surprised. I knew James wanted to ask me out, but I opted to save his pride and played along. “Well, everyone kinda does it a bit differently. Cultures do it a bit differently, too. I guess the common thing nowadays is to see each other socially for a bit, ask your intended out, meaning to be their significant other. If things go well, then get married. Some couples may not get married at all, just stay in the dating phase, or what you would call a less serious courting phase. Some choose not to have children. It all depends on the people involved.

“I would like,” James swallowed, trying to pretend that a pelican down by the shore had caught his attention, “to see where things…go.” He said, “With us.” He hastily added. “If I were, to be honest, I find you captivating. You are kind and compassionate, intelligent, and diligent.” James said, looking into my eyes. He was nervous and embarrassed, but I found him to be endearing and charming. “I know, uh, it’s early, even for my time, but I fear that I may not have the courage to ask you any other time.” He rambled.

“May I kiss you?” He asked.

My heart fluttered. I smiled. I have never been wooed in such a way, completely without pretension. This tall and handsome commodore who took down pirates with ease turned into a quaking leaf when asking a girl out. I had always found the idea of a partner asking to kiss you as the near height of romance. It was so gentlemanly but without chauvinism.

”Please,” I whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A storm is coming 😊


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really battled with how much I would address the changing world. Norrington is the embodiment of white colonialism and colonization. It all just felt like the elephant in the room. I needed to address it, especially with a female protagonist and one (or perhaps both, depending on you, the reader) being a person of color. I hope I handled the topic gracefully and tactfully. I have no right to speak on such issues, so I let Jericka do so I the only way I know how.

James began to learn about the darker parts of our history. First, the Radium Girls and their bones necrotizing in their living bodies from ingesting paint laden with radioactive radium. Here, he learned about corporate greed. Next came the Holocaust, in which he learned how pervasive hate was in human nature. Afterward, he learned about the real damages of slavery, how cultures were destroyed, and warlords rose to power. He was melancholy for a few days. It never occurred to him that humans were capable of such large-scale horrors. He said he realized how simple his worldview was.

He and Jericka had long talks on the balcony about slavery; James, a person who benefited from and enforced slave labor, and Jericka, a descendant of slaves. At times, they would become heated, but I let them sort it all out themselves. It was not my place to be a part of those talks. James started to learn he was a villain in many stories when he built his life on being a hero.

Part of me saw the guilt and disgust James felt as beautiful. I’ve known about such atrocities since childhood and have become desensitized. It reminded me not to become complacent. I saw the uncomfortable growth and development like growing pains. It took several days and more talks for Jericka and James to cool down and come to a place of agreement. James was pretty good at admitting when he was wrong.

James’ 321st birthday was coming up, and Jericka and I planned it in secret. Well, secret enough that he _probably_ didn’t know what we were planning _exactly_ , though he _likely_ knew it pertained to his birthday. He would saunter by with a smirk when Jericka and I were alone as we planned.

It really wasn’t anything special. We rented out a deck at Murdochs’ for a celebration and cake. Murdochs’ is a Galveston staple. It’s a souvenir and seashell shop flanked by two large, covered porches furnished with deck chairs overlooking the Gulf. It’s usually reasonably busy so renting it out was a must, so likely the only party crashers would be seagull or two.

Jericka and I decided that we were going all out to make it a real birthday party. We raided a party supply shop for balloons, streamers, and confetti poppers. We wanted to show him what a modern birthday party was, even if it was just a few seagulls and us. He likely hadn’t had his birthday ever celebrated.

Jericka made James a decadent cake of dark chocolate and citrus fruits. After we got it set up, I hurried home to collect James. To keep the surprise, I made him wear a sleep mask, to which he huffed about with his arms crossed during the short journey back to Murdoch’s.

Helping him out of the car, I held his arm as we ascended the dozen or so steps to the covered porch.

“Step. Step. Step. Step.” I spoke.

James scoffed, holding his arms out in front of him, looking for something to grasp onto, “I know where I am. I’m not an imbecile.”

“Hush and enjoy your birthday! Step. Step. Step. Okay, take it off.”

“Happy birthday!” Jericka and I exclaimed.

James smiled, “A celebration of life by the ocean, I couldn’t have chosen a better spot myself.”

Jericka pulled out a navy gift bag with gold tissue paper sprouting from the top out from under the table, “And we got you this,”

Inside was an antique spyglass. James marveled at the treasure.

“I hope it’s similar to the one you used.”

“It is quite indeed. If not older,” He remarked. James immediately took it to the horizon.

“See any pirates?” Jericka teased.

“No. I do believe we’re safe.” James replied, playing into the joke.

I started to light the candles on his cake. We only used the amount in a package instead of the actual number of his age for obvious reasons.

“Okay, James, blow out your candles and make a wish,” I instructed.

“That seems unsanitary.” He replied with a grimace.

“You’re not gonna do it?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“No!” James replied as though it were the most obvious answer.

“Fine,” I said, blowing out the candles. “No wish for you.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.” He replied with a sarcastic smirk.

As Jericka began to cut and serve the cake, I saw a man my age casually jog up the steps to the porch. He looked confused for a moment. I stood up and went over to him, about to redirect him.

“Is this deck rented?”

“Yep, sorry,” I replied politely.

“Aw, dang it. I was gonna feed, Harriet.”

Harriet was an island famous pelican who only had one leg. She was tame and allowed people to feed her. Murdoch’s was one of her favorite haunts.

“Oh, I saw her over on Stewart Beach near the fishing pier about an hour ago.”

“Oh, thanks. Uh, hey, would you like to come with me? Looks like your party is kinda bust.”

“Thanks, but I’m already seeing someone,” I answered, trying to still be civil but stern. I turned to go back to the table.

“Fine, whatever bitch.”

James stood up; the sound of his chair rasped against the deck.

“What did he just say?” Jericka asked in disbelief. Both she and James looked ready for a fight.

“Guys, chill. It’s not worth pursuing. Let the troglodyte crawl back to his cave.” I asserted.

“Really now?” Jericka said in disbelief, “I’m pretty sure something similar happened to me a few weeks ago, and you were ready to go to jail for beating the guy up.”

James suddenly descended the stairs. “What are you doing?” I called.

“I cannot let someone speak to you that way,” He said.

He marched down the sidewalk, and I scrambled to keep up. Finally, I grabbed his hand and turned him around.

“James, this isn’t 1753 anymore. You can’t challenge someone for my hand in a sword fight. I have to choose it just as much as you choose mine. I am not a porcelain doll, some arm candy, or decoration. I made it this far without you and will continue. I’m afraid you’re making the same mistakes you made in the past. I don’t want you to think of me as this fragile wisp of a woman, but rather someone as capable as you are. You don’t get to boll me over just because you’ve got a penis.” James grimaced at the word. “It has to be 50/50. We’re equals, James. Chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just changed. Don’t treat me like a princess. You have to think of me as a real person because I am one.”

James sighed, “My job was to protect others. It has always been my nature to do so and put other's interests before my own. I would be a failure if I did not do the same to the woman I was courting. However, I do see the error of my ways. I vow to be ready whenever you do need me.”

“Good. Thank you.” I said in relief.

We both happened to glance at the beach next to us. Something had washed up on the sand. Curiosity needling us, we descended the sandy stairs to the water.

James held a decrepit, long wooden case in his hands. His eyes had disbelief as he opened it. The lights from the Pleasure Pier were reflected in the forged steel.

“It’s my sword.”


End file.
